


Timkon Oneshots

by jayphrodite



Category: DC Extended Universe, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comics)
Genre: M/M, ONESHOTS!!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:20:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27924442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayphrodite/pseuds/jayphrodite
Summary: ...It's pretty self-explanatory, huh?
Relationships: Tim Drake & Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Kudos: 21





	1. Dance with me.

“Do you feel it?” His lips barely moved, and his eyes remained closed. Kon listened to Tim silently, his feet on the edge of the tallest balcony in Metropolis, but Tim was standing on his toes, even closer to the edge. 

_Feel what?_ He wanted to ask. But he knew.   
They were feeling death. 

She always stood beside them, beside Tim. Every time his feet lifted off the ground, every time he appointed himself for another mission, death followed. She seemed to be Tim’s best friend, always holding his hand. 

“She’s so beautiful,” Tim continued. “Don’t you think?” 

No, he didn’t think so. But he wasn’t going to say anything, for this time, as many times before, Tim wasn’t talking to him.   
He was talking to himself, to whoever was listening.

“I could just… I could let it devour me whole.” Tim’s eyes kept closed, and his lips weren’t moving. He was leaning forward by the second, but Kon kept quiet.   
He knew how it felt, in modes and levels.   
Yet Tim was different.   
Tim was the reincarnation of beauty, always so vulnerable yet strong, strong from trying to be choked down by darkness. Beauty was like that, seeming so pure, so innocent, so tough, when in reality it was simply light in a bottle, fading down slowly, devoured by darkness. 

Kon looked at Tim once more. His eyes were shut close now, not a simple rest of the eyelids. His feet rested lightly on the balcony, and his lips were slightly parted. The soft blue dress shirt he was wearing was being held back by the wind.   
It was as if even the wind knew what was about to happen. 

Kon stepped down from the balcony. He reached for Tim’s hand. “Tim, we should be leaving…”

“I could let it devour me whole.” Tim whispered to the wind. His eyes were still snapped shut. 

Kon didn’t want to use his super-strength on Tim. He didn’t even want to _not_ use his super-strength. Tim looked so peaceful, yet so sad and dangerous.  
Tim looked dangerous. Not a danger to Kon, not the civilians of Metropolis.   
But to himself. 

He grabbed Tim’s hand once again, tighter this time. He tugged, trying to pull him from the edge of the balcony. 

Tim opened his eyes. He looked at Kon. He turned towards him, still on the tip of his toes, still on the far edge of the balcony.   
He smiled.   
He tugged back at Kon’s hands.   
  
“Dance with me, Kon.” He leaned aimlessly towards Kon. He met his eyes once again and held his loose hand on his shoulder.   
  
“Dance with me.” 


	2. Insane.

“Kon, what if… What if I were insane?” 

Conner Kent lifted his head from the cold floor tiles of Tim’s bedroom. His feet were resting on the wall, inclined upwards, and Tim was laying on the bed, his head limp and hanging from the edge of the bed. “What kind of question is that?” 

Tim remained silent for a beat or two, then continued. “You know… what if one day I just lost my mind? So,” He sat up, and Kon could see just his back. “Insane. What if I were insane?” 

Kon put down his feet from the wall. He sat and turned, his back now resting on the wall. “Tim, do you have any idea what being insane really means?” 

“Sure. A state of mind which prevents normal perception, behaviour, or social intera-”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t mean a dictionary definition. I mean… the real meaning.” Kon clenched his jaw slightly. They were somewhat dipping their feet in hot waters. He repeated himself, calmer this time. “Do you have any idea in the slightest of what being insane really means?

“It means… It means,” Kon stumbled over his idea. He decided to approach it again. “The label of being ‘insane’… it’s thrown around _so_ often, Tim. _SO often_. You know that, yes?” 

Tim scoffed. “Sure. Yes, fine. Continue.”

Kon was sure that was sarcasm, but he kept on. “People call things and others ‘insane’, when they can’t find any meaning, logic, nor… feeling around something or someone developing an… action.” 

Tim rolled his eyes, and Kon tried his best not to punch him in the face. “Kon, stop inventing crap.” 

Kon avoided eye contact with Tim. “I’m not inventing anything. It’s true, Tim. Being _insane_ … it’s actually beautiful.

“It’s being so determined and passionate about something, you won’t let anything stop you from accomplishing it. You put it in front of _everything_. You’d go to the end of the world for it.” Kon closed his eyes. Opening a sore subject like that wasn’t really something he felt necessary. 

Tim laughed at him. A dark, mocking cackle. “Don’t be stupid. The Joker’s fucking insane and he’s not passionate about anything nor anyone.” 

Kon lifted himself up, he stood on the floor, his back leaned against the wall. “The Joker’s not insane, Tim,” When Tim snorted he continued, “The Joker’s just obsessed. He’s obsessed with… with your _dad_. He’s obsessed with _Batman_. Everything he’s done, it’s for Batman, Tim. To get his undivided attention, to take up all his focus, every inch of his thoughts. He’s not insane Tim, he’s obsessed.” 

Tim was sitting on the bed now, eying Kon intently. “Right. _Ri-ight_. Then tell me something, Kon. Am I insane?” 

“Nah.” That was a lie. That was the ugliest lie Kon had ever said. Tim wasn’t exactly insane, but every day, every day, Tim pranced on the fine line between insanity and not. Every day, putting on his suit, Tim lost all consciousness of the world, and his objective was never clear.   
Was it to save others or to save himself? Had Tim really lost consciousness of who he was?

Kon looked up and he met Tim’s eyes. Tim scoffed. “Okay, then, Conner. If _I’m_ not insane, and the _Joker_ isn’t insane.” He stood up. “Then who’s insane?” 

Kon stepped forwards, he placed his hand on Tim’s shoulder, he smiled. “Me.” 

Tim grabbed Kon’s arm. He didn’t move it, he just lingered his grasp a bit below his wrist. His eyes held confusion but his lips were holding back a small laugh. “Oh yeah? Is that _true,_ Kon? Are you _insane, Kon?_ Why are you insane?”

With his loose hand, Kon lifted Tim’s chin. He met his eyes, he inched closer. 

“Because I’d go to the end of the world for you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooh so this one was kinda wack i guess idk lol


	3. Sounds (Tim's side)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is Tim's... "version", i suppose. Next Chapter's is Kon's!

_Sounds were such a funny thing. A way of communication, that could vary so much in so many ways. Tones, voices, volume, whether the sound was hollow, ragged, whether it was sore, squeaky.  
Whether it wanted to express pain, whether it wanted to scream out love. _

_“Tim, I need to leave. I need to go, now.” Conner Kent was standing on the frame of a door, wearing his uniform and leather jacket. The jacket had sewn signatures, it had stickers and paddings. His hair was messy and his glasses were hanging on his jacket pocket. “I- they need me.” His voice was hollow, demanding, fearful, in pain._

_“No, you- no you don’t!” Tim Drake stood up from the chair, anger boiling inside him. “They don’t- They don’t need you, Kon! They just- they just want to use you,” his voice faltered. The outgoing sounds were the small, deep taps on the doorframe with Kon’s fingertips. “You’re going to get hurt, really hurt, and then they’re going to leave you._

_“They don’t care about what happens to you, Kon. They just want your powers and your strength, it’s going to drain, and then… and then you won’t be here anymore.”  
_

_The tapping stopped, Kon walked towards him. “Maybe they don’t need me, but others do. Only Supers in battle, remember?” The sounds were small, creaks of the wooden tiles, drips of water. “I need to go help them.”_

_Tears prickled at Tim’s eyelids. “Then I will go with you,” he reached for his uniform. “You can’t go alone, besides, I-”_

_Kon grabbed his arm, his fingers tightly laced on Tim’s skin. “You can’t go. Not even Batman is going, it’s just us Supers, you guys won’t survive out there.”  
_

_“I don’t care, Kon! You can’t go on some suicide mission, just because Clark is demanding it!” Tim wiped falling tears from his cheeks. “You’re going, then so am I…” Tim knew the answer already, the only possible outcome of the conversation. Kon was going to leave, and Tim was going to stay.  
_

_“You know you can’t go, Tim! You- you’re not indestructible, I can’t throw you onto my battles.”  
_

_The sounds were still drips, not so many creaks on the tiles. The swarm of voices, fighting, trying to outspeak the other, they were strong and thick. It came out a whisper. “Just- Just promise me-” Tim’s face melted into a frown. Promises were stupid, they were unrealistic and shameful signs of false hopes. “You’re going to be back?”_

_Kon smiled at him. A sad smile, a waver of the lips, a broken goodbye, nonetheless, he kept quiet._

_“You’re going to be back, right?” The sounds were the ticking of a clock, the dripping of liquid, the crack in Tim’s voice. “Right, Kon?”_

Tim Drake opened his eyes, the colour of cream absorbing his energy. His hands were tied back, his feet strapped to the wooden legs of a chair, the same colour or the wooden tiles of the building. He was wearing a suit, strapped in white, the same colour as the padded walls. The sounds were the same. Faint creaks, light beeping, taps, drips. 

Tim looked down and he saw white blended with red. Streaks and splatters of his own blood, staining a white suit. Bruises on what he could see of his arms, a salty taste on his lips. 

Tim closed his eyes, he counted to ten. It was a calming exercise, to say out loud everything known as a fact. Tim kept his eyes closed, and his lips stung when he spoke. 

“My name is Tim Drake, I am…” He didn’t have to answer that question. “My favourite colour is r-re-” He didn’t need to answer that one either. 

He started over. “My name is Tim Drake, I was the sec- third, yes, third robin, my favourite drink is… apple juice, a-and-” 

Again. “My name is Timothy Drake, I used to work with Batman, my favourite ice cream flavour is peppermint, and-” Tim’s throat was dry. “and Conner Kent is dead.” 

Voices, sounds, they were so varied. A voice could use so many different tones, so many different letters to say, songs to sing, rhythms to hum, phrases to whisper.   
A voice would also make sounds like a whimper, a laugh, a sob, a scream. 

Today, all those sounds filled the cream-coloured room.

“Right, Kon?” 


	4. Touch (Kon's side)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agh! Kon's side for the previous part

_The feeling of things was always held up high on a pedestal in Conner Kent’s eyes. Passing fingers on smooth surfaces, scratching lightly on granular passings.  
The feeling of bare skin, the autonomy of consent. The warmth of his breath, the swift brush of his lips. _

_“Tim, I need to leave. I need to go, now,” He was standing by the doorframe, his shoulder leaned against such. Tim was sitting on a desk chair, his feet swinging below. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Kon made sure to look away as he said the following.“I- they need me.”_

_“No you- no you don’t!” Tim stood from his chair, a small limp on his right foot. His eyebrows knotched into a frown, his lips parted in disgust, an expression much different from the one a few seconds ago. “They don’t- They don’t need you, Kon! They just- they just want to use you,” Tim’s voice failed him. Kon reached his hand out to the doorframe, just a few centimeters in front of his shoulder. He He started tapping the doorframe lightly with his index finger, the feeling of harsh wood toying with his senses._

_Tim had his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re going to get hurt, really hurt, and then they’re going to leave you._ _They don’t care about what happens you, Kon. They just want your powers and your strength, it’s going to drain, and then… and then you won’t be here anymore.”_

_Kon took back his hand from the doorframe. He walked towards Tim. “Maybe they don’t need me, but others do. Only Supers in battle, remember?” His throat was dry, for every word that came out of his mouth was contradicting to what he felt._

_Tears prickled at Tim’s eyelids. “Then I will go with you,” he reached for his uniform. “You can’t go alone, besides, I-”_

_Kon reached for his arm, using his super-speed. The immediate touch of their skin, a milisecond-lasting feeling, it was cold, unreceiving. “You can’t go. Not even Batman is going, it’s just us Supers, you guys won’t survive out there.”  
_

_“I don’t care, Kon! You can’t go on some suicide mission, just because Clark is demanding it!” Tim wiped falling tears from his cheeks with his loose hand. “You’re going, then so am I…” Kon pursed his lips. He wanted to tell Tim that he was right, that he couldn’t possibly go on a suicide mission just for Clark’s wishes, but lives were at stake, a threat that humans alone won’t survive against. Kon would need his invulnerability, and he would have to leave.  
_

_Tim was going to stay, he was going to be alright._

_“You know you can’t go, Tim! You- you’re not indestructible, I can’t throw you onto my battles.” The first lie that walked across his mind. Kon’s grip on Tim’s arm was getting tighter, but both their expressions stayed the same._

_The feeling of exposed skin, Kon always held it on an even higher pedestal. Most feelings possible, always contacted with skin. The gush of dusty air, smiling against his hands. The warmth of Tim’s wrist, held by Kon without permission._

_“Just- Just promise me-” Tim’s face melted into a frown. Troubled thoughts seemed to cross his mind, decisions, rash or not, battling for a last say in the conversation. “You’re going to be back?”_

_Kon smiled weakly at him. He let go of Tim’s wrist, he wanted to reach for his cheek. He wanted to lift his chin and kiss him, he wanted to feel Tim’s hair against his forehead, to feel Tim’s lips smile against his own. He wanted a chance to say his proper goodbyes._

_“You’re going to be back, right?” Tim straightened his position. He stretched his sleeve further, he wiped his cheek. “Right, Kon?”_

“Right, Tim.”

Conner Kent gasped for air, his eyes widened in terror. A cell the colour of midnight, profound, rich, black. A heavy collar on his neck, both his arms and legs stretched out, held back with chains. Fabric hanging by threads, the stick of blood molding them together. Faint laughs in distance, slams of metal doors. A large figure from the shadows, produced only by the fainted green light above him.   
Kon stretched his fingers, he ran them through the magnetic handcuffs, his fingers slipping in his own lukewarm blood. 

His neck hurt when he looked down at his bare chest, at the black embedded Kryptonian symbol of hope, at the skin closing overtop, at the black ink stretching out to his arms.  
His eyes hurt when he kept them open for long, trying to take in the whole of his surroundings, and every time he closed his eyes, his eyelids held the threat of never opening again.  
His lips hurt when he breathed too heavily, when he screamed, when he whispered Tim’s name over and over.

 _‘Just promise me,’_ he had said. _‘You’re going to be back?’_  
Kon ran his tongue past his lips, dry, salty, rough. He remembered wanting to touch him, one last time. 

Kon smiled bitterly. “Remember, Tim?” His words echoed past and through the walls of the cell. “You had asked me if I was coming back, and then-” 

His smile faltered, a smaller wound on the corner of his lip opened. He brushed his lip past the wound, he flinched when it hurt as expected.   
Nonetheless, he continued. 

“You had asked me If I w-was coming back,” He let himself laugh a bit, yet it ended abruptly, for he remembered what happened next, “And then you kissed, me, Timbers. You kissed me an-” 

Kon hung his head limp, he slid his finger in the blood of the moment. That surely wasn’t how it went, was it? 

“You kissed me, Tim. And then… And then I stayed with you, Timmy, I stayed with you.” 

Kon whispered into the dark, he swayed his head side to side, softly.

“And we lived happily ever after.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr (@/woahjaybird) for more!


End file.
